


Best Friends?

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Stakeout, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: Dean takes a step closer. “You ever hear of a birthday wish?” He asks, and wow, when did he get so close?“You’re really gonna keep milking this birthday thing, aren’t you?”He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, his eyes fond. “Hear me out.” He’s practically trapping you against the sink now, and you’re sure you’re not imagining the way his eyes are a little darker than usual. “Every year I used to tell Sam to make a wish on his birthday. Told him it was the luckiest day of the year. Never really wished for anything on my own day, though.”“Huh.” You say, and then berate yourself. Super intelligent, way to go.He smiles like he knows exactly what the brush of his skin against yours is doing, and you kind of hate him for it. You don’t really want him to move away, either. “I know what to wish for, now.” He tells you, his voice barely a whisper.OR: Dean + “we’re best friends and i’ve been in love with you for forever but i’m 3000% sure you just see me as a friend except why is this sexual tension happening rn”





	Best Friends?

“I hate stake outs.” You mutter from the front seat of the Impala, looking through your binoculars as Dean sighs next to you.

“I heard that the first million times, actually.” 

You drop the binoculars to your lap. “Nothing’s even happening! We’ve been out here for hours. All the intel we have says the guy doesn’t even come home until it gets dark. Let’s go get something to eat.” 

Dean glares, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting we leave our post, Agent.” 

You roll your eyes. “That’s another thing. What kind of fake Agent doesn’t change out of her suit before sitting in a car for hours on end?”

Dean grumbles something you can’t hear, but you know it’s nothing nice. He yelps when you smack him in the chest with the back of your hand. Before you can move, he grips your wrist tight, his eyes sparkling as he turns to you. “This is harassment. I might have to go to HR.”

You swallow hard, his proximity unexpected. “Who’s HR in this scenario? Your brother? Because he likes me better than you.” 

The corners of Dean’s mouth twitch upwards as he tries not to smile. “How dare you. And on my birthday, no less.” 

You roll your eyes again as he lets go of your wrist. Dean has told you no less than seven hundred times that it’s his birthday today. Little does he know that you actually have a gift for him, you just have to get back to the motel before he does to get it, hence your urgency to get out of this car. 

Dean chuckles and looks at his watch out of the corner of his eye. “I guess you’re right. Lunch break won’t kill us.” 

“ _Thank_ you.” You say, grinning when he starts up the engine. “You’re back in my will.” 

The running joke between you and the Winchesters was that you had to constantly update your will because you either had no possessions, or no one to give anything to. The three of you were always joking about writing in and out the other two in your wills as a way to bribe. 

“Lucky me, that means I get your entire collection of tea. Goody.” He deadpans, and you snort. 

“Don’t think I don’t know you sneak some of that sleepytime tea when I’m not around.” 

Dean turns the corner of the street and glances at you briefly as he checks for oncoming traffic. “You can’t prove it.” 

The two of you continue your banter until you get back to the motel, and when you get out, you stretch your back, feeling it pop and crack in a few places. “Yikes. I’m turning into a Grandma. Let me change and we’ll get some food?” You ask, turning to Dean, who’s eyes look slightly unfocused. His gaze is decidedly lower than your face. 

“W-what? Oh, yeah. Change. Food. Sure.” 

You bite your lip to keep from smirking as you turn away, deciding to let him off the hook this time. It’s weird – you’ve been hunting with the Winchesters for a few years now, and you and Dean have always been close, but lately, it’s been like living on another planet. 

Dean’s gaze lingers more, his touch lasts a little longer on the small of your back, your arm, resting on your knee when you sit side-by-side. His smiles are a little easier to show, and all of it makes you feel a little dizzy.

Yes, you’ve been half in love with Dean ever since you met him, but you never thought he could feel a shred of what you feel for him. It just seems impossible, so you never let yourself think about it. 

You head into the room to change, and start rifling through your duffel bag to find your favorite pair of jeans and a comfortable shirt. You’re hoping Dean will want to go to that diner you saw on your way back, because you’re dying for some breakfast, even though it’s lunchtime. 

He comes in the room shortly after you, and you slip into the bathroom to change, giving yourself a few extra minutes to text Sam and ask him to make sure he takes Dean’s gifts out of their hiding spots when he gets back from researching. 

Dean knocks on the door. “You almost ready to go?”

You come out and see he’s already changed, and he smiles at you as you slip your phone into your back pocket. “Come on, birthday boy. I’m starving.” 

.

.

That night, you and Dean stake out the guy’s house one more time with Sam, and are able to stop him before sacrifices some poor teenagers in Lucifer’s name. He’s not a monster, just a nutjob, so the three of you get the kids out of there and call 911 after tying the guy up in his basement. 

There are sigils and incriminating photos of his rituals all over the place, so it should at least be enough to get him in the eye of the cops for a little while. 

After, you head back to the motel, and you’re practically buzzing at the thought of giving Dean his gifts. You spent a lot of time on yours. Not because you want to make some grand gesture, but just because you think he deserves it. You know the brothers don’t really do birthdays or holidays, and you want to do something nice. 

You walk in, and sure enough, on one of the beds, there’s two wrapped presents, just like Sam promised. Dean stops in his tracks, but when he turns around, he’s smiling. It’s a shy smile, but it’s a smile nonetheless. 

“Guys.” He says, shaking his head.

“Don’t even try it.” Sam threatens. “Go ahead and open them.”

“It’s too much–”

“It took me two seconds to wrap those,” you interrupt, “and it was no trouble.”

“Alright, alright.” Dean grumbles, but he’s still smiling. That’s gotta count as a win, right? He sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches for one of the gifts. He goes for Sam’s first.

Sam gets him a new knife, a really intricate design on the handle and a shiny new blade. Dean really likes it, you can tell by the way he runs his fingers over it almost reverently. 

“Should fit in your boot.” Sam says, and Dean nods. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Sammy.” 

He reaches for yours, and you’re practically vibrating in excitement. “Feels light.” He says, and you punch his shoulder. “Kidding!” He tears the paper off, and you hold your breath when the journal is revealed.

You start talking before you can help yourself, and watch as he leafs through the pages. “It’s mostly blank. I just figured– you gave your Dad’s journal to your Mom, but you and Sam have seen _so much_. I tried to put some of the cases we’ve worked in there that stood out – more monsters than any of the biblical stuff. There’s still some room, so you can use it after we finish up cases, or for whatever.” 

He doesn’t say anything, and you start to get nervous. “If you don’t want it, I can take it back. Or burn it. Doesn’t matter.” 

Dean snorts. “Like hell you will.” He looks up at you. “This is awesome, kid. I mean it.” His eyes are – it’s a weird contrast. That sparkle from earlier is back, but there’s also an emotion there that you can’t recognize. “Thanks, both of you. This is– just, thanks.”

He surprises you by getting up to hug his brother, and then he turns the brunt of his affection on you. His arms go around you so tight, and he kinda buries his face in your hair a little bit, sighing contentedly. You almost forgot how great he is at hugging.

.

.

In the middle of the night, you get up to get a glass of water. In the bathroom you stretch, wincing at the sore muscles of your back. 

“Couch bothering you?” Dean’s raspy voice startles you, and you whirl around as he enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “Don’t wanna wake Sam.” 

“R-right.” You stutter. “Uh, the couch isn’t bothering me really, just– too long in the car today, I think.” 

Dean takes a step closer. “You ever hear of a birthday wish?” He asks, and _wow_ , when did he get so _close_? 

“You’re really gonna keep milking this birthday thing, aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, his eyes fond. “Hear me out.” He’s practically trapping you against the sink now, and you’re sure you’re not imagining the way his eyes are a little darker than usual. “Every year I used to tell Sam to make a wish on his birthday. Told him it was the luckiest day of the year. Never really wished for anything on my own day, though.”

“Huh.” You say, and then berate yourself. _Super intelligent, way to go_. 

He smiles like he knows exactly what the brush of his skin against yours is doing, and you kind of hate him for it. You don’t really want him to move away, either. “I know what to wish for, now.” He tells you, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” You croak. 

“Mhmm.” He hums in agreement, moving closer and bending his head so his nose can skim along your jaw. He exhales, his breath warm as it fans across your face, causing you to shiver. “Just have one question for you.” 

“Shoot.” You say, proud that your voice is steady.

“Is this going to get me written out of your will?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious?” You blurt. “You corner me in here, and _that’s_ what–” 

You’re cut off as Dean grins and surges forward, slanting his mouth over yours in a kiss that instantly turns deep, his mouth urging yours open as soon as your lips meet. You freeze for half a second before your brain catches up, and then your hands slide into his hair as you melt into his kiss. 

He groans as your nails rake over his scalp lightly, and it’s the noise that does it for you. You press your body against his, his arm banding tight around your waist as he pulls you closer, his tongue tangling with yours in a way that has you seeing stars and flushing hot all over your body. 

“Gotta be quiet.” He whispers when he tears his mouth from yours for a half second, and then his mouth is on your neck, sucking at your pulse point, his tongue soothing the spot after. “Normally I’d want to hear you, but if my brother interrupts this, I might have to kick his ass, so.” He shrugs, like _what can you do_? and you almost can’t believe what’s happening.

Instead, you kiss him again, a filthy kiss that sends an electrical current straight to your core, especially when he lets out a low growl against your lips. His hands are everywhere - smoothing over your hips and sliding underneath the soft fabric of your t-shirt, and you pause slightly to tug his over his head. 

His neck and chest is flushed as you stare at him, and his eyes are dark as he looks you up and down hungrily. “This is probably in my top five birthdays, just so you know.” He says, dragging you back towards him, sighing at the skin-on-skin contact when he gets your shirt off. 

“Top five?” You whisper, starting to tug his sweatpants below his hips. “That’s offensive.” 

His forehead thuds against yours as you find him hard and hot for you and begin to stroke lightly, relishing in the soft whimper he lets out against the skin of your neck. “Okay, top three.” He concedes on a choked off groan.

“Can I–” You huff, frustrated with yourself. “I really like you. I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” 

He lifts his head, his sharp green eyes burning into you. “I don’t want that either.” His hand cradles your face. “Just got tired of telling myself I shouldn’t want you, I guess.” 

You smile. “God, same.”

“So… agreed?”

“Agreed.” 

He chuckles. “Cool. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get back to…” he trails off, his hand slipping under the waistband of your underwear, causing you to arch against him.

“Yep, yeah, you get right back to– _that_.” 

He gets you off with his fingers while keeping his mouth pressed to yours, swallowing up your moans and groans. You can’t really do much but grip his biceps, and he looks _way_ too smug when you finally get your release.

“Wanna be inside you.” He whispers in your ear, his voice dark. 

You nod frantically, and then he’s lifting you up on the edge of the sink, your legs going around his waist as he tugs your underwear off. His eyes meet yours with concern at the last second, and he frowns. “Hold on.” He reaches for his pants, going into the pocket on the left side. 

“I’m on the pill–” you protest, but he’s already shaking his head.

“Haven’t been tested in a while.” He insists, and your chest kinda warms at how concerned he is for you. “This isn’t gonna be the last time we do this. Not taking any chances now.” He says, and you smile softly at him. 

“You’re a big softy, Dean.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Remind me to write you out of my will.” 

“God. Shut _up_ and–”

Dean lines up and pushes into you, causing the rest of your sentence to completely fall away. “Fuck _me_.” He mutters, and you laugh breathlessly.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

You fall into silence after that as he thrusts into you at a slow but burning pace, your nerve endings on fire as he mouths at your neck and murmurs into your ear.

“You feel so good. Imagined you like this a hundred times. Always thought about how you’d feel and the sounds you’d make–” He chokes off a groan and tilts his head back. 

“If you keep that up I won’t last long,” you warn, his words sending sparks right to your center. 

“Can’t help it.” He mutters. “Want you to know how good you are, how you make me feel.” 

You sigh, urging him to go faster. The two of you dissolve into moans and whispered words after that, still conscious of Sam sleeping in the room not too far away. He might sleep like the dead, but you’re not taking any chances. 

When you come, Dean is right there with you, groaning into your ear and slumping against you, struggling to keep himself upright as he tries to help you keep your balance. You’re both panting, and when he straightens, he smiles at you with so much affection, it makes your heart race. 

“Hey.” He says, brushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“Hi.” 

“Thanks for a great birthday.” He says, his smile turning into a smirk, and fight off a smile of your own. 

“You’re welcome. You owe me, you know.” 

“Already planning for yours, babe.” He says, winking. You shiver. 

He presses a kiss to your cheek and helps you get cleaned up, and then takes your hand to lead you back to bed. He tugs you away from the couch and right into his bed, into the circle of his arms, and you grin to yourself as you face away from him, letting him encircle you from behind. 

“’Night, kid.” He whispers, and your heart feels like it could burst.

“Night, Dean.”


End file.
